


How Shall We Proceed?

by Ferrenbach



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol, Consent Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Language, Phase Four (Gorillaz), mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrenbach/pseuds/Ferrenbach
Summary: Noodle overhears a guest at a launch party talking about how 2-D treated her badly. However, when Noodle goes to confront her bandmate, she finds the stories don't quite match. More distressing to her personally is 2-D's take on the matter...





	How Shall We Proceed?

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional Notes and Warnings:** This fic was written about a year ago and never posted, partly because of the themes involved and partly because of the resolution, which might not be entirely satisfying. This story is mainly about reactions to an event over the event itself.

“—with this bloody house party. I don’t know why you think we want a billion people tromping around our new place anyway.”

“Well, it isn’t any worse than the cameras we had up around Kong. It’ll only be one night—“

“Like no one’s gonna crash here or end up passed out in the hallway.”

“One night and one morning then. We can toss ‘em out on the lawn if they’re still here when the sun comes up.”

“Oh, right. 2-D’s gonna up and bodily toss some drunk arsehole out the door.”

“ _I’ll_ up and chuck ‘em out the door and you after ‘em, fuck nugget. It’s not like any of this was _my_ idea—”

“Well, it wasn’t _my_ idea either, Russ. The label demands it. It’s been a while since the last album, so we need to promote this one with all the fervour of religious devotion and all the visual spectacle of Mardi Gras.”

Noodle kicked back and watched the fight, eating popcorn from a bowl she kept secured in the crook of her arm. She felt like a living meme, the thought of which breathed fresh life into the always entertaining and yet still somewhat predictable arguments between Murdoc and Russel. They had hashed all of this out before – the necessity of the promotional party, the hassle of it, the expectations, the aftermath – and their general annoyance masked a secret glee at the chance to mix and mingle with a new group of people. There would be collaborators there, of course, and guests of the label, but also fans and contest winners, new faces bringing new perspectives and new excitement.

Beside her, 2-D fidgeted, occasionally reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn from her bowl and picking it nervously from his palm piece by piece. Unlike the others, who felt a need to posture about how much they dreaded social situations while still harbouring a certain fondness for them, 2-D genuinely loved interacting with guests and felt no need to hide it, but was easily overwhelmed, particularly in situations that offered too much sensory input: too much music, too much talking, too much perfume and cologne, too many overheated bodies. He waited for the argument to venture into restricted zones and assure him there would be a quiet space for him to retreat to when the party became too much. It always did, of course, but he would not be happy until he heard it.

“—closet in the basement for one. You know, the one with the black masse that keeps trying for a crotch grab.”

“Really? I was thinking of charging admission for that one. Some people would pay good money to be felt up by the supernatural.”

“If you’re sure. Laundry room?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want anyone going through my drawers unless I’m in them.”

“So, laundry room, that inter-dimensional cubby hole with the tentacle pit—“

“Actually, I might consider charging for that one, too…”

“Fine, if you’re going to commodify the paranormal, how about we do the laundry room, that bathroom with the busted toilet so no one shits down the pipe, and D’s room? If we hang the door back up, it’ll short-cut everything. He’ll have a place to recharge where he’s comfortable, won’t mind us in there now and then, and if anyone bitches about missed photo ops, we’ll tell them it’s under renovations and there’s a better story in the tentacle pit.”

“What do you think, Dents?” Murdoc said, turning to 2-D. “You mind your room being ‘restricted access’?”

“I’s fine,” 2-D replied, grinning brightly enough to make Noodle smile as well. It was probably the best possible scenario for him.

“Means we’ll all be in there smoking, mind,” Murdoc warned him. “Maybe hunting some rabbits, too. But then all of our rooms’ll be open to the rest of the bloody world, so what’re a few ploughed fields between friends, eh?”

“Smoke if you want,” 2-D told him, “but if you’re explorin’, get an extra mattress and dun fuck in my bed.”

“I’ll change the sheets.”

“Or… here’s a thought,” Noodle said before 2-D could reply, holding her popcorn bowl out to Russel so he could grab a handful. “We keep the restricted areas restricted and not bring strangers in. I mean, the whole idea is to give ourselves a quiet place to recharge, right?”

“I suppose, technically speaking,” Murdoc said. He made a come-along gesture that she ignored until he glared at her, and then she held the popcorn bowl out to him.

“Then we should stick with Plan A,” she said.

“Well, if you want to spoil all of my fun, Plan A it is.” Murdoc tossed a couple of pieces of popcorn in his mouth and snapped his fingers at 2-D. “Note! We blast the ‘doors with “restricted area” signs are rigged and will blow your arse to shite’ speech from the front walk. If I don’t get to use them for my personal pleasure, neither does anyone else.”

“I’m not your secret’ry,” 2-D told him.

“No, you’re the one who gets his bedroom off-limits. Make a fucking note.”

“I’ve got it,” Noodle grinned. “Fuck off with yourself.”

“I don’t care how old you are, you’re still not old enough to swear at me,” Murdoc told her. “For that, we’re putting the lube and branded condoms in your boudoir. Lock up your cat.”

“Katsu won’t hurt anyone.”

“He’s small and furry and will be in a building full of drunk idiots who can’t tell one pussy from another.”

“Put him in my room,” 2-D said. “If i’s a quiet space for us, it can be a quiet space for him.”

“Good thinking,” Murdoc said, walking by to grab more popcorn and knocking 2-D lightly on the back of the head. “If you get the off-limits bedroom, you also get the cat hair on your pillow. Works for me.”

“Thank you, Toochi,” Noodle said, stretching up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m sure Katsu will be much happier away from the party.”

She appreciated the offer to harbour Katsu, even though she knew Murdoc was joking about the condoms and lube. It was a dance party, after all, not an orgy. In spite of this, she had no illusions about her band mates. If Murdoc could find a companion for the night, he would, as would 2-D. It was their preference to have a sexual partner rather than go without and if Murdoc was more successful in his ventures – tending, as he did, toward stimulating conversation and outright hustling – she felt that 2-D genuinely enjoyed them more, being sensitive and tactile and generally suited to intimacy.

They were a direct counterpoint to she and Russel, who were not against close and personal encounters, but seldom sought them out. If a partner came along with whom they clicked, well… that was the night made, certainly. If not, they would do as they always did. Russel would draw the intellectuals in the group, creating an oasis of musical and political discussion amid the general chaos – an atmosphere so cool and calming that 2-D would often retreat to it in situations where no other quiet space could be found – and she…

Well, she would dance.

 

 

“—said to never meet your idols and now I know what they meant.”

“What? Niccals? Not much of a secret that he’s a bit of a dick.”

“Not Niccals. 2-D.”

Noodle paused in her quest to find refreshment. The tiny conclave of women hovered in a corner near the kitchen, holding drinks and speaking in low voices. It was not in her nature to eavesdrop, but, as one of the hosts, she did like to keep one ear open for complaints or concerns that her guests might be too shy to voice to her directly.

Hearing Murdoc’s name alone would not have concerned her. Murdoc rubbing someone the wrong way was not news or even particularly surprising to those he managed to annoy. Aspersions upon his character were part of the natural background noise at any party he attended. Noodle had a meter system that she followed in such situations. For every ten complaints she heard regarding Murdoc’s behaviour, she smacked him on the back of the head and hissed a warning in his ear. At the parties they hosted, the meter limit dropped to five.

Hearing 2-D’s name voiced in disparaging tones was something new.

She poured herself some water, but kept both ears open, leaning against the counter near the doorway as she drank and listening in on the snippets of conversation that escaped its circle.

“—took advantage of you, Mills? I mean, he must be twice your age. And he has a reputation.”

“He’s only, like, ten years older, maybe. I was into it, but thought he’d be more of a gentleman, you know? He comes off as sweet, if thick.”

“That’s what the thread says, too. That and he’s _really_ an animal—“

“Shut up, Becka. Which one of us was with him? Right. So…”

Noodle listened stoically to a continually interrupted description of “Mills’s” sexual encounter with her band mate, pseudo-brother, and closest friend. It left a sour taste in her mouth. Not for the fact of it so much as the kiss-and-tell disrespect of the narrator and her own voyeuristic intrusion. She respected that her bandmates were sexual beings, but that did not mean she wanted to hear about their escapades at length.

Still… if one of them was mistreating their guests, that was something she needed to address, and asking Mills directly for information risked having her clam up in fear or twisting the narrative, possibly to her own benefit, yes, but also possibly to cover for 2-D.

“—get done and he looks at me with those weird fuckin’ eyes and is all, ‘I wish I hadn’t dun it’ and tells me to use the shower in the back bathroom in case someone sees.”

“Rude!”

It _was_ rude and very unlike 2-D, as far as Noodle was concerned, although a combination of a bad day on 2-D’s part and a misinterpretation on Mills’s part might account for the disparity. Even so, a bad day was not excuse enough to be rude to the guests, particularly in such a personal situation. As awkward as it would be, she needed to have a chat with 2-D to clear the matter up and ask him to apologize.

She could not find 2-D among the guests and Murdoc appeared to be wrapped up in an interview with a couple of online entertainment blogs, so she approached Russel and excused herself during a lull in the conversation to ask him whether he had happened to see 2-D around.

“He told me he was going to his room for a bit when I went for a drink, but that was some time ago,” Russel told her. “He usually comes back after he’s had a cigarette. Are you sure he’s not around?”

“I haven’t seen him,” she told Russel. “I’ll check his room anyway.”

Making her way to the bedrooms, Noodle knocked lightly on 2-D’s door, and then cautiously inched it open.

She found 2-D futzing about in jeans and a hoodie, fixing the blankets on his bed and tidying the clutter of his myriad possessions. He cringed a little when she entered, but straightened up and smiled when he realized it was her, hands jammed deep into his pockets.

She couldn’t help returning the smile fondly. 2-D was one of the strangest and most interesting people she knew. Unlike Murdoc, Russel, and herself, 2-D had put little effort into personalizing his room. She supposed it was only sensible as the house appeared to reject any attempt to renovate or redecorate. As a result, both Murdoc and Russel had settled for surface aesthetics, draping, pinning, and hanging their creatures comforts over the existing decay and decrepitude. She had put more effort into her space, forcing a physical change upon it, although she knew it was a losing battle. Even now, she could feel the sliding doors beginning to stick and an inconsistency in the tatami mats where the house appeared to be reaching through the flooring.

2-D, by contrast, had merely splashed the walls with a coat of reclaimed paint, ignoring the fact that it immediately began to crack and peel. His bed was little more than a mattress on a palette and the rest of his furniture an afterthought, scavenged and salvaged and tinkered with until it was in usable condition. He was, in many ways, a magpie, picking up anything that caught his eye and bringing it back to his nest: an old typewriter that he enjoyed for the sound as he pecked at the keys, a doll house repurposed as a bookshelf, whole and damaged keyboards with which he toyed, beads and charms and coloured thread woven into bracelets. Some art was painted directly onto the walls – a commentary on its own ephemeral nature as it slowly flecked apart – and doodles and random lyrics decorated the remaining space, jotted down in crayon and coloured pencil wherever they occurred to him.

The end result was more like him than any thoughtful effort could hope to be.

“How are you doing, Toochi?” she said, opening the conversation gently.

“I’m a’right,” 2-D said, weariness reflected in his eyes. “I din’t feel too good, so I came in here. I was gonna go back, but I dunno.”

Noodle nodded in commiseration. Parties were like that sometimes. More so when an intimate interaction had gone sour.

“About that… Um… Were you with a woman named Mills?”

2-D squinted in thought.

“Millicent?”

“I suppose. Were you with a woman named Millicent?”

“Uh… yeah,” 2-D said, looking concerned. “I know the restricted areas weren’t… weren’t for that—“

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Noodle assured him. “It’s just that she’s going around saying you pretty much told her to her face that you were sorry you… spent time with her.”

2-D’s face scrunched up in agonized self-reproach.

“Yeah… I said something like that, but knew as soon as I said it that I’d done it wrong, even though I apologized first. I wan’t feeling good and said I din’t want to and she just went on saying I might feel better if I did, so I let her, but I din’t really want to an’ I din’t feel better and said I was sorry, but it din’t work and I felt worse an’ I wished I hadn’t dun it and if she wanted a shower, she could use the one in the back bathroom ‘cause maybe no one would see and bother her about it. I din’t mean it as an insult.”

2-D spoke so quickly and regretfully that Noodle initially registered the interaction as a misunderstanding and lined up her argument that 2-D should venture from his room long enough to apologize.

Then her mind parsed his words a second time.

“What?” she said.

 

 

By the time Noodle had made 2-D repeat his story to her satisfaction, she felt a decade older and awash with fire. In her mind, the party should have finished an age ago, the house left empty and cold, but all the guests were still present, the dancers dancing, the drinkers drinking, the debaters debating, and Millicent’s entourage clustered near the kitchen door, cooing and sympathizing with her tale of woe.

Noodle pulled out her phone as she strode across the floor, partygoers seeming to melt away before her. She elbowed Millicent’s friends aside and threw the woman up against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” she said coldly and held up her phone. “Do you see what this is?”

“Um… It’s a phone?” Millicent replied, affecting a sarcastic laugh. Beneath it, she smelled of fear.

“Yeah. A phone,” Noodle told her. “Do you see what’s on the phone?”

“A timer?”

“Yeah. A timer. Can you see how much time the timer is set for?”

“One minute?” Millicent offered.

“Yeah. One minute,” Noodle said. She let her words hang there a moment while the realization that a shit storm was on the way began to dawn in Millicent’s eyes. “I literally just left 2-D. Do you know his last words to me?”

This time, Millicent had nothing to say. Noodle gave her a moment to reconsider and explain herself, and then, receiving no answer, continued.

“His last words were, and I quote, ‘Please don’t hurt her, Noodle. She couldn’t know. She’s not physic. It’s not like I said no _again_ ’,” Noodle said coldly.

Millicent opened her mouth to speak, but she had had her chance and lost it. Noodle pressed on.

“As it happens, unlike you, I both respect 2-D and know the meaning of ‘don’t’, so I will let you go _this_ time. When I press the button, the timer will start, and you will have one minute to pick up your shit and get the fuck out of my house. If I see you any time after the timer hits zero, I will consider it the _next_ time. Do you understand? Don’t speak. Just nod.”

Millicent nodded silently, eyes wide. Noodle hit the button.

“ _Run_ ,” she said.

Millicent ran, scrambling for her jacket and nearly tripping over her own feet as she flew out the door. It wasn’t clear whether she truly understood the situation or was simply terrified of the rage that radiated from every pore of Noodle’s body. Noodle would be satisfied with either for tonight.

Millicent’s entourage was another matter entirely.

“If any of you are with her, now would be a good time to follow her,” Noodle told them. “If you aren’t, you’re free to stay. As far as I know, none of you have done anything you need to be ashamed of, but if I hear this story repeated, I will assume one of you did it and I will find you. I have a perfect memory for faces. Believe me.”

They believed her, melting into the crowd without a word. Only one of them stayed behind and apologized profusely for believing Millicent’s story, leaving her name and number in case a witness was needed to confirm the details of Noodle’s interaction with Millicent. She was welcome to stay, but elected to leave all the same.

Alone but for the party going on around her, Noodle lit a cigarette and sank down into a chair, staring blankly at a point on the floor ahead of her, ignoring the ripple of whispered rumour that stirred among the party-goers. The bits she did hear were wild enough to assure her that none of the women in Millicent’s group had blabbed any specific details – any correct information could have easily been overheard in the altercation – but the stories would still have to be dealt with.

Later. They would have to be dealt with later. Right now, she was smoking.

Noodle barely registered Russel as he approached and squatted down by the arm of the chair.

“You all right, baby girl?” he said, a term of endearment for a child, but one he had never given up. She was glad for it now.

“No. No, I’m not. I’m… I’m just… so…”

“What happened?” Russel prompted.

“I… I can’t,” she replied. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“If it’s upset you this much, it’s become your story,” Russel told her. “Would it be better if we hit up the laundry room?”

Noodle pulled deeply on her cigarette and blew the smoke out in a slow and steady stream. It wasn’t her business. It was 2-D’s business. She didn’t want to discuss it without him. And yet, 2-D…

She needed to share her thoughts before he changed them. The stupid, silly sod. He made her so angry, she could cry. She hated him, she loved him so much.

“Yeah,” she said, stubbed out her cigarette, and followed Russel away from the main party and into the utility room marked “Restricted Access”.

“So,” Russel said once they were alone. “That woman that flew through here like a bat outta Hell. What’s her deal?”

“She’s a fucking rapist and I don’t want her in this house,” Noodle said.

Russel looked her over, taking in the dangerous set of her jaw and nodded his acceptance.

“Aight. I accept that. How did you come across this knowledge? It had to be pretty definite if you were willing to throw her out.”

“2-D told me.”

She paced back and forth in the small room, tormented by anger and a deep, aching… something she could not place. Something akin to grief.

“He stood there,” she began. “He just fucking stood there, looking all worried like he’d done something wrong, and told me. Looked me right in the face and said he’d gone into his room to have a sit because he didn’t feel very good. Not just overwhelmed and anxious, but kind of sore, too. Kind of sick. So he went in to have a sit and smoke one of those mixed cigarettes he has. Tobacco and marijuana. Just to kinda relax, you know?”

Russel nodded. He did know. They all did.

“And this woman, this Millicent… Her friends call her ‘Mills’, by the way, how fucking obnoxious is that? This Millicent woman sneaks in and he tells her the place is off-limits. It has a ‘Restricted Access’ sign. This startles her – or maybe she only acted startled, who knows? This is all according to 2-D – and she says she just wanted to get away from the party for a moment, but didn’t want to go outside because it was getting cool out and she thought, from the layout of the house, that this would be a bedroom of sorts and hoped to just hide behind the door a minute. Now, I’d have tossed her out anyway because we made it clear that people weren’t to go into the restricted areas, but you know how 2-D is…”

Russel nodded again. Of course he knew. They all knew.

“Anyway, he said she could stay a bit. Then she got all bent out of shape about him being 2-D and how much she loved his voice, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera and basically threw herself at him.”

“Sounds like a good night for him so far,” Russel interjected, grinning. “It’s not exactly a secret that he _likes_ a roll in the hay.”

“Usually,” Noodle agreed, “but he wasn’t feeling good. Honestly wasn’t. He told me that himself. He didn’t feel good and he said he didn’t want to, but she pulled the same receipts: Everyone Knows What You Like to Do at Parties. And then she told him he would feel better once he started and he just… let her. He didn’t really feel up to it, but let her anyway because he… he’s just completely incapable of arguing, especially in his own favour. And when she had finished, he was sorry he’d done it because he didn’t feel better and told her so and she took offence and started spreading it around that he’d disrespected her. I went to ask 2-D if it was a misunderstanding and ended up running her out of the house instead.”

Noodle swore and leaned back against the washing machine, burying her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t be saying all this. I shouldn’t. It’s his business, not mine. But, fuck…”

“Like I said. If it’s got you this bothered, it’s become your business,” Russel told her. “Maybe not all of it. You can’t make decisions for him if he doesn’t want to go after her. But if you need to get it out of your system, _that’s_ your business. You know I’m not going to share it around. You know that.”

“I know,” Noodle sighed, and dropped her hands to cross her arms instead. “And I have to get it out. I have to get it out before I talk to 2-D again. Because if I talk to him again, he’ll find a way to convince me that it was his fault. It was so fucking _hard_ to listen to him. To listen to the _words_ coming out of his mouth and not the tone he was using. And even then, so fucking delicate about her and how much she couldn’t possibly know, she’s a stranger, she’s not psychic, she can’t know what he didn’t say and never, never _thinking_ that she shouldn’t have done _any_ of it in the first place. Not even gone into the room. And the worst… the worst… you don’t even know the worst.”

“The worst?” Russel prompted.

“The worst was his distractedly tidying his desk while telling me that he let her do whatever she wanted because sometimes he does enjoy it after a while. Sometimes. Out of how many times, I don’t know. I’m scared to find out.” Noodle bit on her thumbnail. “I feel like I ought to. Like I should know and be aware. But I haven’t been aware before now and part of me wishes I never was.”

“Sounds like you should go talk to him again before you lose your mind,” Russel told her, leaning up against the machine beside her. “I don’t wanna say that you’re blowing it out of proportion, because I don’t think you are. I think you were right to throw the bitch out. It’s not the kind of behaviour we want at our house parties. People should feel safe here, as much as they can, and that includes any of us. But if D’s reading this in a completely different way than you are, then you do _not_ need to be feeling the amount of stress that you do. You’re not his proxy.”

“No. No, I guess not,” Noddle said, toying with the cloth of her sleeve. “I just… I don’t understand how he can be so unbothered by it. I mean, he _is_ bothered, you can see that he’s bothered, but he’s not… I don’t know how I would react to something like that. Worse than him.”

“Well, first of all, I doubt you’d be in the same position because you’d have ripped ‘Mills’ to shreds,” Russel told her drily.

“True,” Noodle admitted, unable to suppress a bit of a smile.

Russel dropped an arm around her shoulders, gave her a squeeze, and then continued.

“Secondly, you were raised in an age with an awareness of consent and its importance. The sexual harassment of women especially is a pretty big issue that people are aware of, regardless of what they think of it. The sexual harassment of men… not so much. Less so when D and I were growing up. It was the kind of thing that was played for laughs. Still is in some ways. If you can get it up, you’ve got to want it, right? And good boys don’t hit girls, especially not good middle class boys from good middle class families. And, well… it’s 2-D. He’s been tormented mentally and physically for half his life without saying a damned thing about it. He’s not about to start now.”

Noodle squirmed a bit in Russel’s hold, discomfited by his assessment. She knew, of course, that Murdoc had never treated 2-D especially well – was downright cruel to him on many occasions – and that 2-D had, until fairly recently, come up with a million ways to excuse him. Hell, even now, when he was more likely to speak out, he still never retaliated. She knew, but to hear it put so plainly left her cold.

“Something else you don’t really like to think about?” Russel said, a rhetorical question. “Still, it’s true, and sex he’s not really in the mood for is soft in comparison. Why would he complain? It does need to be addressed. We can’t promote this kind of behaviour when the world is watching us. But his reaction shouldn’t be surprising. Do you want me to go and talk to him?”

Noodle sighed. “No, I’ll go. You might need to back me up later, but I’ll talk to him first.”

“Sounds good,” Russel said, but tightened his grip around her slightly when she tried to step away. “One more thing before you go. I know you only told me to get things off your chest and you don’t really want to spread stories around, but we’ve got to tell Murdoc.”

“Russel, no…”

“I’ll do it while you talk to D. Just the basics: guest broke the rules, guest pressured him, guest got kicked out. But he’s got to know because you put on a show and there are going to be stories and misinformation. If we want to make some kind of statement and D’s all right with it, we can do that later. In the meantime, we’ve got to crush the rumour mill – or at least send it on a wild goose chase – and no one does that better than Murdoc. He’s the spin king.”

“He’s the type who’d just congratulate 2-D on getting laid and not understand the problem,” Noodle snorted.

“Maybe, but it’ll be behind closed doors,” Russel told her. “When it comes to brand or image, he’ll twist the story in any direction he wants it to go.”

Noodle had to admit that this was so and agreed to let Russel handle Murdoc while she spoke to 2-D.

She found 2-D in his room, stroking an affectionate Katsu with one hand and prodding at a tablet with the other, weaving strange melodies with his fingertips. He smiled at her and pushed the tablet away as she came in, making space for her on the bed. She settled in beside him – wedging a pillow between herself and the wall as he had done – and scratched Katsu under the chin.

“What a good boy you are,” she told the cat, “taking care of Toochi for me. Aren’t you glad he let you stay in his room?”

Katsu meowed as he purred and turned his head to bump it against her fingers. 2-D laughed, a low, chuckling amusement.

“We get along really well,” he said. “I’s nice. Not all cats are as friendly-like.”

“I’m glad he’s keeping you company, especially if you don’t want to come out again.”

Noodle paused there, unsure of how to proceed, and then bit her lip and took the plunge.

“I came in here to tell you that I threw Millicent out,” she said, ignoring 2-D’s reproachful look. “I didn’t do anything to her, although I wanted to. I just made her leave. It did cause a bit of a stir though, so I had to tell Russel about it, and now he’s going to have to tell Murdoc. I know how you feel and that you wanted to keep it quiet – for her sake, I guess – but she didn’t feel the same way. Even if you don’t care that she was spreading lies about you, we do. More importantly, if we, as a band, let people get away with that kind of aggressive behaviour, they’ll do the same thing to someone else. Someone who’ll feel more hurt than you do. We can’t do that. It isn’t right. It just… It isn’t right.”

Noodle wasn’t sure what she expected, but 2-D’s calm reception of her news was not it. If he expressed anything, it was little more than weariness.

“A’s a’right, I guess,” he said. “Sorry I caused such a fuss.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault,” Noodle said, surprising herself with her own annoyance. Anger still pulsed within her, but, as she had already run off its intended target, it seeped out where it could against her wishes.

“No?” 2-D stroked Katsu distractedly, lost in thought. “I din’t think it was, at first, but you din’t seem happy with that. Now, I think it might be, and you dun seem happy with that either. I dun know how you want me to feel.”

“I… I don’t want you to feel things just because other people want you to feel them!” Noodle protested. “Just like I don’t want you to do things just because other people tell you to do them!”

“Then what _do_ you want?” 2-D said, his voice unusually sharp and tired. “Do you want to hear me say you’re right? I can do that.”

“Toochi, no…”

“Because you _are_ right. I shun’ta let her in here. I din’t ask her, but I din’t make her leave even though we agreed the restricted areas were just for us. I broke the rules and caused a fuss. That’s my fault. And you were right to make her leave. If she can’t keep private private and is saying things that will hurt others, then she doesn’t belong here.”

Noodle twisted her fingers in agony.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I mean, that _is_ what I meant, a little – that what she did was wrong – but I don’t mean for you to feel bad or worse or at fault…” She sighed. “Can I hug you?”

“Hug me?”

“Yeah,” Noodle said, self-consciously smoothing out her clothing. “You asked me what I want and I don’t know. I just know I’m upset and frustrated and angry and want to hug you, but I feel like I should ask. Today, of all days, I feel like I should ask.”

“You can always hug me, pun’kin,” 2-D said, dropping his arm around her shoulders, giving her space to curl up against him. She slid one arm around the small of his back and threw one across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder as she squeezed him tightly.

“I don’t want you to be sad,” she told him as he gently stroked her hair. Her feelings were too complex for such a simple statement, but it was a fair summary, and one that could not be modified by a change of perspective.

“Everyone’s sad sometimes,” he said, “but I’m not sad right now, just sorry. I’s not something you need to worry about. A guest was disrespectful and you did what you needed to do. I’s up to Murdoc now.”

“I suppose.”

“You goin’ back out to the party?”

Noodle sighed. She supposed she should. She was one of the hosts, after all. And yet…

Being curled up next to 2-D and Katsu was the warmest and most secure thing she could think of. She felt calmer now than she had since overhearing Millicent decades ago. She could not conceive of the party still existing, never mind rejoining it.

“I’d rather stay here with you for a little while, if that’s all right,” she said.

“Yeah, i’s a’right,” he replied. “Might be a bit quiet though.”

“That’s fine,” she told him, leaning into his shoulder.

Right now, she thought, a shared silence was what she needed most.

 

 

A brief knock woke 2-D from a dozing stupor. Murdoc’s entrance followed it.

Murdoc never bothered to wait for an invitation, not in any house he called his own. It had taken diligent effort and constant personal reminders to groom him into providing even the most cursory of knocks. 2-D knew it as well as Murdoc and offered an encouraging smile.

Transferring one of the two mugs he carried to his free hand, Murdoc kicked the door shut behind him and cocked an eyebrow at his bandmate.

“She still here?”

“Yeah,” 2-D said, tilting his head toward Noodle, whose head rested on his shoulder. “She fell asleep. I’s been an exciting night for her.”

“Not just her, as I understand it,” Murdoc replied, modulating his voice and holding out one of the mugs. “Irish coffee?”

“With cream?”

“Too right. Real stuff. Not that whipped shite the fancy places use.”

2-D grinned and reached up to take it from him. “Thanks, Murdoc.”

“Don’t fucking say it like it was a bloody effort,” Murdoc sneered. “We’ve got both tea and coffee out and about fifty types of alcohol. It wasn’t a stretch.”

“Thanks anyway,” 2-D said, unperturbed. “Saves me having to get up.”

“Yeah, well… I figured you’d want something. You’ve been in your room a while.”

“Sorry,” 2-D sighed. “I wan’t gonna stay so long—“

“I don’t need the song and dance. I got enough of the situation from Russel,” Murdoc told him. “And I’m not here to cast judgment,” he added when 2-D looked faintly alarmed. “I don’t give two tugs of a dead dog’s dick if you decide to stay holed up in here. You just were and I figured you’d want something if Noodle hadn’t brought you anything. I couldn’t find her to ask, so I took a chance. Didn’t figure she’d still be in here. Nice image that: band hosts a dance party, goes into hiding before the night is over.”

“You dun have’ta stay,” 2-D told him.

“I won’t,” Murdoc replied, settling in on the bed beside 2-D. Katsu looked up at him from his nesting spot across 2-D’s and Noodle’s thigh and then closed his eyes again. “I’ll just hang around long enough to enjoy my drink in peace. Russel’s in control right now. As long as one of us is out there, we’re good.”

They drank coffee in silence for a few minutes, both brew and alcohol strong enough to stop a train.

“If you’re wondering, I managed to shift it,” Murdoc said eventually. “I didn’t bother to deny any rumours you’d had a shag with some bird ‘cause that’s not news. Just put a spin on Noodle running the woman out of here. Fortunately, most of what she said was about disrespect and she managed to terrify anyone else in that circle into silence, so I planted a very definite idea that your bird had come across some choice fan pornography about you that we had spent ages trying to stomp out and passed it around in spite of cease and desist notices.”

2-D snorted laughter, almost choking on his coffee. Murdoc grinned.

“Thought you’d like that one. I let it out in a trickle, but it seems to be gaining ground. Not a word at the party, mind, but the social media sites are starting to light up. Veers things away from our actual lives and takes the woman out of the picture too, more or less. Even if someone manages to hunt her down, if she’s smart, she’ll simply say she deleted everything in the face of Noodle’s wrath and walk away with little more than a reputation for strange kinks.”

“An’ what’re those?”

“Ehh… I took some liberties each time I told the story, so it could be about anything by now,” Murdoc admitted, not the least bit ashamed. “I think it started with aliens taking you on Glastonbury Tor and went from there. I’m sure I heard a version that included a wallaby. It’s entered uncharted territory.”

“Here be dragons,” 2-D snorted into his sleeve, trying simultaneously to hold his cup and stifle his laughter, lest he wake Noodle.

“You might have been fucked by one of them, too, by now,” Murdoc agreed.

2-D only laughed harder.

“Oh, you like that one?” Murdoc said, grinning as he took 2-D’s cup before it spilled everywhere, allowing 2-D to cover his mouth with his hand, reducing his giggles to a throaty crooning. “It’s the dragons that do it for you? I don’t even know if dragons have dicks. Probably bugger you with their tail.”

A keening sound escaped 2-D’s hand and Murdoc gave him a chance to catch his breath. When he finally pulled himself together and took his coffee back, he was grinning broadly and in better humour than Murdoc had seen in a long while.

“You know they’re gonna go looking, an’ if they dun find anything, someone’ll make it. You know that, right?” 2-D said.

Murdoc sipped his drink and considered this.

“That bother you?”

“No,” 2-D replied, toying lightly with Noodle’s hair. “It’ll be fun to see what they come up with.”

“Give it a week and it can be our post-recording party activity. Get drunk and hunt for unauthorized Gorillaz porn,” Murdoc said.

A thought came to him and he almost burned his nasal passages on hot coffee as he tried simultaneously to drink and share the sudden memory.

“That reminds me… You remember Point Nemo?”

“I’d rather not,” 2-D said sourly, the sudden twisting of his features a warning that Murdoc was entering dangerous waters.

“I suppose not, but you’ll like this one,” Murdoc assured him. “Someone who thinks I have a sense of shame sent me a link to a webcomic somehow based on my radio broadcasts. Brilliant art. Just brilliant. Can’t remember the artist right now. Might have been Japanese. Couldn’t read it anyway, but it was very detailed, very lovingly done. It was a harrowing tale of war on the high seas that served as the backdrop to a romantic tryst betwixt my own self and a squid.”

The sound 2-D made trying to bark laughter through a clenched jaw was inhuman. Murdoc snatched the coffee cup back up so he could snort into the crook of his elbow.

“You need me to get you something to eat, Dents?” Murdoc said reproachfully. “Hardly half a cup of Irish bliss and you’ve already got the giggles. It’s not good, alcohol on an empty stomach. You know that.”

“Squid?” was 2-D’s muffled reply.

“Lovingly rendered in all its black and white inky glory,” Murdoc confirmed. “Except the centre spread, which was full colour and worthy of a Renaissance master. I contacted the artist for a print copy and had it translated. Even the paper was quality. Good weight, slight texture. An all-round sensual experience, really. It’s buried in one of the boxes we haven’t unpacked. I should dig it up and have a poster-sized enlargement of the spread made. We can hang it in the front hall so it’s the first thing people see when they come through the door.”

2-D managed to muffle most of his laughter, but his body shook with the force of it. It was a miracle Noodle didn’t wake then and there. She stirred a moment, and then resettled, one arm draped over 2-D’s belly.

“The writing was downright Shakespearian,” Murdoc continued, unrelenting. “The art, now… The art was pure talent, but a bit worrisome, as you might imagine, given the squid, but once it was translated, it transformed the story entirely. You’d like it. You’re the gooey sort. I’ll let you read it when I find it. Very romantic. Very consensual.”

2-D’s laughter halted almost immediately, dying in the throes of a few shuddering breaths. Once he seemed calm enough, Murdoc handed him back his mug.

“Relax, mate. I’m not going to start monitoring your sexcapades,” Murdoc said. “If I wanted something interesting to do, I’d watch paint dry. But it’s bad all around to engage in things your heart’s not in. I’m sure Russel and Noodle have already given you the feminist, political, brand image, personal empowerment, Pulitzer Prize-winning speeches, so I won’t. I’ll just make one request.”

“An’ what’s that?” 2-D said, jaw tight.

“Give yourself permission to have been hurt. There’s not a bloody thing anyone can do about it if you don’t want to come forward or even talk about it, but if it all gets dragged out into the open, like tonight, put the blame on the right person. Even if you only admit it to one of us.”

2-D snorted. “A’s all well an’ good, but I went along with it. Makes it my choice, dunnit?”

“Don’t be bloody stupid,” Murdoc said. “You’re Stuart ‘2-D’ Pot. You don’t make choices. You take what you’re given, convince yourself it’s right and proper, and hope tomorrow’s a better day. She came in on her own and you did nothing. She came on to you and you did nothing. She did whatever she wanted to you and you did nothing. Whatever. It’s over and you’re still here.”

2-D’s expression contorted into a look of self-righteous offence that Murdoc met with a glare.

“And before you open your mouth to say something biting and ultimately useless, think long and hard about the person you’re about to sass. I don’t have to guess at what you’ll take with a smile. I _know_. _Believe_ me. I _know_.”

Murdoc let his words hang in the air a moment before continuing.

“It’s the truth, but it doesn’t mean you’re to blame. There are a million reasons why you might not feel it possible to push someone away. Maybe you don’t want to get physical in case you hurt someone. Maybe things are moving too fast for you to process. Maybe the idea that it would be disrespectful is ground so deeply into you that you can’t get over it. Maybe it’s being done to you by someone you care about and that takes the fight out of you. Whatever. It happened. Maybe it’s happened before. I don’t know. But it happened and we all know it. So give yourself permission to realize it’s a bad thing. That someone else is at fault. If it’s not something you want to take to the world, fine. It’s something that should be addressed, but nowhere is it written that you need to be the one to do it. Just don’t try to convince us that you’re okay with it, when you very obviously aren’t.”

“Easy for you to say,” 2-D murmured, the fight slowly seeping out of him. “You wouldn’t put yourself in this spot.”

“True enough,” Murdoc admitted. “If it had happened to me tonight, I’d have thrown the tosser out on their arse in memory of the times I couldn’t.”

2-D was ready to piss and moan and perform the verbal equivalent of stamping his feet and sulking, a reaction he often displayed when frustrated by feelings he could not adequately frame with words. He was ready, but Murdoc watched the impulse die as quickly as it had sprung up, replaced by something better for him, if off-putting to the one at whom it was directed: commiseration.

“Murdoc…”

“There are a lot of stories,” Murdoc said, “and a lot of reasons they don’t come out. But when they do, we can’t condone them. I’m not above using people, but this is different. It’s personal. It’s intimate. It fucks you up in a very special way.”

2-D sat silently for a minute or so, burying his face in his mug. When he spoke, it was from behind its shelter, his lips almost brushing the rim.

“What if I’ve done worse?” he said.

“What? You’ve thrown down some bird after she’s said no?” Murdoc prompted, finding the scenario hard to believe.

“Coerced, maybe,” 2-D elaborated. “I’m a singer in a band. Famous, even. Could be some girls din’t think they _could_ say no. An’ feeling good _after_ we got started made sense when it was said to me. What if I’ve done it to someone else?”

“Do you _remember_ doing it to someone else?” Murdoc said.

“No. But my mem’ry’s not so good.”

Murdoc had to admit this was a valid point.

“Has anyone come to complain?”

“No…”

“Well, if you don’t remember doing it and no one’s accused you of doing it, there isn’t a whole bloody lot you can do about it, is there?” Murdoc said. “All you can do is make sure you don’t do it in the future. Although, if it’s that much of a worry for you, I don’t think it’s likely to happen. All you’re doing right now is finding ways to excuse the things people have done to you.” He nodded toward Noodle. “That doesn’t make for a good role model, and she’s old enough to see and hear of things she never could before. She might know we’re human, but it’s still hard to see how fragile your heroes are. No need to condone bad practises.”

“I’m not a hero,” 2-D protested.

“No, you’re her big brother,” Murdoc replied. “That makes it worse. Y’see, mate, it doesn’t matter how old she gets, how mature she thinks she is, or how much attitude she decides to flaunt. There will always be a part of her that’s a little girl in a FedEx crate, chasing you around Kong Studios, learning the melodica, and snuggling up next to you for a nap. You’ve been subjected to one of the worst things she can possibly imagine and now you’re trying to play it off as natural when she can see how it whittles you away a layer at a time. You’ll argue that point,” he said, interrupting 2-D’s protest, “but you know I’m right and I’m right because I know. So allow yourself to have been hurt when you’re caught hurting.”

Murdoc tossed back the dregs of his drink and stood.

“Well, I’m off,” he said. “This party isn’t going to host itself and Russel has probably driven the fun factor into the ground. Are you done?” He gestured toward 2-D’s mug, into which 2-D glanced briefly before handing it over. “Don’t feel the need to run out and join us unless you’re desperate to be drowned in a tide of perspiration and body spray. And if you ever need someone to talk to about tonight… hit up Noodle or something. I’m not your therapist.”

2-D half-grinned at that. It was just the sort of thing Murdoc would say, which did not sit well with Murdoc, who preferred to be unpredictable.

“Of course, if you want a more practical discussion with someone who is experienced in the matter, I might be able to accommodate you. Now grow a pair and wake Noodle. She’s too damned big to carry back to bed these days and you’re doing neither of you any favours sleeping sitting up. Idiot.”

“Thanks, Muds,” 2-D said, offering a weary smile.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t let the door hit my arse on the way out,” Murdoc said and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

2-D sat quietly against the wall for several minutes, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of Noodle against him. For a little while, he was twenty again, she was a tiny thing, and the world seemed much simpler.

Katsu stretched and meowed, shattering the illusion. 2-D gently stroked Noodle’s arm and shoulder, urging her toward wakefulness. She yawned and stretched like her cat, looking around the room in confusion.

“Did I sleep?” she said, puzzled.

“Yeah,” 2-D told her.

“What time is it?”

2-D kissed her briefly on the top of the head.

“Time to wake up.”


End file.
